


See How We Are

by GotTheSilver



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Episode: s04e17 It's a Terrible Life, Getting Together, M/M, Omega Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 17:54:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10037216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: It's A Terrible Life AU with some a/b/o thrown in.*“Dean Smith,” he says, meeting Castiel’s eyes as he moves the mouse on his desk to wake up his screen and squint at the details of Castiel’s meeting.  “You’re here for, oh, the building down on 7th?  You took it over?”“I did,” Castiel says, drawing a file out of his briefcase.  “Well, my company did.”“Your company?”Castiel looks at Dean, his gaze steely.  “You think because I’m an omega I can’t have a company?”“I—”“Because if that is how you think, Mr Smith, I can find another place to do business with.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was so much fun to write, I had a blast working with Steffi, please check out the gorgeous art that inspired this story, along with additional pieces on [lj](http://silly-blue.livejournal.com/127418.html) and [tumblr](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/tagged/Fic%3A-See-How-We-Are)
> 
> [fic tumblr post](http://motleywolf.tumblr.com/post/157870847987/my-spn-reverse-bang-fic-is-up-i-got-to-work-with)
> 
> With many thanks, as always, to BK for her beta services.
> 
> Brief mentions of: background Sam/Jo, and mpreg.

*

It’s barely halfway through the working day, and if Dean has to see Zachariah’s face one more time, he’s going to scream. He thought that getting this promotion, after all the work he’s put in, would mean the constant micromanaging from that bald-headed gnome would stop, but apparently he was wrong.

“Charlie,” Dean says, pressing the intercom button. “Give me a heads up next time he wants to come in.”

“Sure thing, boss. Also, you’ve only got thirty minutes until your next meeting, you want me to grab you some lunch from the cafeteria before Mr Novak gets here?”

Dean looks over at the mini fridge in his office. “No, I’m good, but thanks, Charlie.”

“Are you going to eat that sad salad I saw lurking in your fridge? Alphas can’t live on grass, Dean.”

“I’m not eating grass,” Dean says, although, really, there’s a possibility Charlie’s right, he hasn’t exactly looked at what the hell is in the bowl he picked up from the raw food cafe next to his building. “Look, let me know when he gets here, okay?”

“Will do.”

Eyeing the treadmill in the corner of his office, Dean pushes his chair back from his desk and switches his dress shoes for sneakers before loosening his tie and taking it off, draping it on his desk followed by his shirt. Jumping on the machine, he sets a steady pace, enough to give him a workout, but not enough that he’s going to have to shower before his meeting. It’s a good feeling, blood pumping through his veins as he goes, waking him up from having been sat in the office since eight am.

Dean gets so lost in the feeling, he doesn’t notice when the door to his office opens, doesn’t notice anything until there’s a sudden rush of a scent that makes him stumble on the treadmill. Steadying himself, Dean switches the machine off and turns around to see a man standing just inside the entrance, tie slightly askew, hair ruffled in a way that somehow looks really good on him.

“Sorry,” the man says. “Your assistant wasn’t on their desk, and we have an appointment.”

“Shit,” Dean says, grabbing a towel from the pile on the table by the wall. “Sorry, I mean. I lost track of time, Charlie, my assistant, was meant to let me know when you were here.” Wiping his face and shoulders down with the towel, Dean can’t stop himself from sneaking glances at the guy. The scent is still in the air, not strong, like maybe the man is on blockers that are wearing off, but there’s something about it Dean can’t ignore. “Mr Novak, right?” Dean asks as he walks back towards his desk, grabbing his shirt and slipping it back on.

“Yes,” Castiel says, closing the door behind him and walking further into the office. “Castiel Novak.”

Dean gestures to the free seat with one hand and waits for Castiel to sit down before he takes his own seat; he’s never quite been able to rid himself of that old tradition when it comes to omegas. “Dean Smith,” he says, meeting Castiel’s eyes as he moves the mouse on his desk to wake up his screen and squint at the details of Castiel’s meeting. “You’re here for, oh, the building down on 7th? You took it over?”

“I did,” Castiel says, drawing a file out of his briefcase. “Well, my company did.”

“Your company?”

Castiel looks at Dean, his gaze steely. “You think because I’m an omega I can’t have a company?”

“I—”

“Because if that is how you think, Mr Smith, I can find another construction company.”

“I think we’ve got off on the wrong foot,” Dean says, holding a hand up. “My surprise wasn’t about you being an omega, it was at your age. You’re young to hold a position like that.”

“Oh, I’m—”

“Don’t apologise,” Dean says, waving it off. “I know what other alphas would’ve been implying, you’ve got a right to be defensive. Let me see the plans, what are you wanting to do with the building?”

“My brother and I, Gabriel, it’s our company. We concentrate on omega rights, and we’ve been working on affordable housing for omegas,” Castiel says, handing Dean the plans. “Given the rising costs in the city, and that unmated omegas still face discrimination, we wanted to create a place where they were safe and protected.”

“And you’d be funding this with—” Dean leafs through the papers. “Your trust fund?”

“Yes.”

“You could get investors,” Dean says. “Spread the risk around instead of taking it all on yourselves.”

Castiel shakes his head firmly. “No. We use investors for our other projects, but this—this is different.”

“Okay,” Dean says, studying Castiel’s face. There’s a story there, Dean knows it, but he’s not going to push, doesn’t want to be one of those asshole alphas who makes an omega tell them everything on their first meeting as a power trip. The way Castiel is holding himself, a slight hunch in his shoulders, fingertips rapping against his thigh, makes Dean lean back in his chair, wanting to give Castiel space. “These are good,” Dean says, tapping two fingers against the plans.

“Good as in you can make it happen?”

“As in, I’ll come and tour the site, and we’ll see what we can do with it.” Pressing the button on his intercom, Dean waits for Charlie to answer. “Charlie, what am I doing next Tuesday?”

“Nothing, boss.”

“Put Mr Novak in the books,” Dean says, looking at Castiel. “I can meet you at the building at 10?” Dean raises an eyebrow and waits for Castiel to nod in agreement. “Ten, Charlie, thanks.”

There’s a small, pleased smile on Castiel’s face as he stands up and Dean can’t help the small burst of happiness in his chest at having done something to put that smile on Castiel’s face. Forcing that feeling down, Dean reaches his hand out and shakes Castiel’s hand when he offers it.

“See you next week, Mr Smith,” Castiel says before walking out of Dean’s office.

Dean watches him go, the light scent of Castiel still lingering in the air; he’s never had this kind of reaction to an omega’s scent before, there have been ones that smell pleasant, but he’s never _wanted_ like this. Rubbing his hand over his face, Dean groans.

“Sounds like the meeting went well,” Charlie says as she walks into the office.

“It did,” Dean says, grabbing his water bottle. “Did you know he’s an omega?”

Charlie makes a face. “Despite what Zachariah would like me to do, I don’t generally ask people that when I make your appointments, and I thought you weren’t one of _those_ alphas?”

“I’m not.”

“So?” Charlie sits down in the chair Castiel had vacated and narrows her eyes at him. “Did you—is this—”

“Don’t.”

“Oh my god,” Charlie says. “His scent, that’s why you’re—”

Dean shakes his head. “I’m not talking about this,” he says. “I have to have lunch, and I need to get some work done.”

“Okay,” Charlie says, standing up. “I’ll go. But, Dean, what if he—I mean, it was his scent, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean says eventually. “He was using blockers, but, still, I—”

“That’s kinda huge, Dean.”

“He’s a client, Charlie, I can’t—” Dean breaks off and sighs. “I gotta get back to work.”

*

It’s late by the time Dean leaves the office, Castiel’s file stuffed in his briefcase, his tie slightly loose around his neck. The streets are empty as he drives home, he passes a burger joint and contemplates going in, but pushes the thought down, the knowledge that he hasn’t been able to hit up the gym recently weighing on his mind. When he makes it into the elevator, he leans against the mirrored wall, looking across at his reflection. “Hours getting to you,” he says to himself, taking in the pale, drawn look on his face. “Goddamnit.”

The apartment is empty and quiet when he finally makes it through the door; there’s the dim light of the lamp by the couch that he forgot to switch off that morning and Dean takes his coat off, not bothering to hang it up, draping it over the back of the couch instead. Dean walks through to the kitchen and places his briefcase on the kitchen island; tugging on his tie, he opens the door to his fridge and makes a face at the rotting lemons left over from his last attempt at the liquid fast.

There’s nothing else solid in there, and he switches to the freezer, finding a bottle of vodka, which he takes out, and a frozen pizza. Dithering, Dean scrunches his mouth up, looking from side to side as if the personal trainer he pays and never has time to see will jump out of his stainless steel appliances and attack him. There’s a layer of frost over the box, but Dean knows it’s pepperoni, can almost taste the meat in his mouth, and it takes him all of five seconds to grab it.

Ripping the box open, Dean frowns at his oven, wondering if he’s even used it since he moved in. Flipping the dials, he shoves the pizza inside and closes the door. Bringing a glass down from the cabinet, he unscrews the top of the vodka and pours out a measure. Dean’s pretty sure most people would frown upon pizza and vodka being paired together, but given the lack of other options, he figures he’s managed to pull together something almost close to a real dinner.

Knocking back the vodka, Dean sets the glass down and takes out his phone; the bright screen light harsh in the darkness of the apartment. There’s nothing from anyone he considers a friend, but then, he hasn’t had much time to keep up with his friendships since he got the promotion. Scrolling through his contacts, he pauses on Victor’s name before dismissing it as being way too late to call. Besides, he has no idea where Victor even is now, he took a job in New York straight after graduation and last Dean heard, he was still there.

The timer goes off and he switches the overhead lights on before taking out the pizza; fumbling for a plate, and digging around for the pizza cutter he knows he got in the set of kitchen tools when he moved in and thought he’d have time to cook.

Pouring out another vodka, Dean settles on a stool at the kitchen island, heat coming off the pizza, and Dean’s almost salivating, he doesn’t remember the last time he even had pizza. Biting into a slice, he burns the roof of his mouth, but it’s worth it as the grease, cheese, and meat attacks his senses, almost overwhelming him. Before too long, the pizza is gone, and Dean’s sitting there with greasy fingers, a full stomach, and a sense of satisfaction he hasn’t had in far too long.

Wiping his hands on a kitchen towel, Dean reaches for the plans he brought home. Even with the scent of pizza in the kitchen, Dean can pick up Castiel’s scent on the blueprints, and he rolls them out on the island; Dean tries to look at them objectively, not wanting to fall into the cliche of an alpha doing anything for an omega he likes, and it works, mostly. He pulls a yellow notepad out of his briefcase and starts to jot down ideas as he goes; some of what Castiel wants won’t be possible without serious redevelopment, and Dean’s assuming that Castiel and his brother are prepared for that, but he wouldn’t be doing his job if he didn’t check. He works until his eyes are gritty and his shoulders hurt from being hunched over the island. Stretching his arms over his head, Dean winces at the pop his spine makes and slowly gets off the stool.

“Gotta stop doing that,” he mutters to himself, stumbling towards his ensuite. Splashing some water on his face, Dean reaches for the ridiculously expensive face wash the guy in the office down the hall recommended to him; it smells like apples, which is the only damn reason he’s kept buying it, Dean hasn’t exactly noticed a change to his complexion or whatever it is the bottle promises. Brushing his teeth, he heads into his bedroom, the blackout blinds coming down with a push of a button. The sheets are cool against his heated skin, and the emptiness of his bed has never struck him as much as it does tonight; it feels like there’s room for a whole other person, and Dean can’t help but think he knows exactly who he’d like to fill it.

*

Despite putting in extra hours on Saturday in the office, Dean feels the weekend dragging. He calls home on Sunday, hears his parents watching the game, and it hits him with a jolt of homesickness he hasn’t felt since he started his career. Restless, Dean runs a hand through his hair as he flicks through channels on his television. Nothing catches his eye until he hits upon the Food Network, a giant slab of beef being cooked on some fancy grill, and Dean stares at the screen, almost willing the meat to jump off the screen.

Catching himself digging his fingers into his thigh, Dean shakes his head. “What the fuck,” he whispers to himself, switching the television off and standing up. “Okay, Dean, we’re going for a run. Pick up some groceries on the way back.”

Once he gets outside, he sets an easy pace, headphones in as he jogs towards the hipster part of town; he hates it there, but if he’s going to start cooking, he’s got the money to buy the good stuff. Passing a homewares store, Dean pauses, looking at the soft blankets in the window, the pillows that seem overstuffed, and before he can realise what’s happening, he’s heading inside.

There’s a scent of patchouli inside the store, and his nose wrinkles even as he reaches out to touch the blankets; they’re as soft as they look, and they’d be perfect for an omega to nest in. Wait. Dean withdraws his hand like it’s on fire and looks around at the other people in the store, wondering if they noticed his actions. Shaking his head, Dean grabs two of the blankets, one blue and one a soft peach colour that he thinks Jo and Sam would like, and heads to the register trying not to think about how the blue of the blanket matches the colour of Castiel’s eyes.

*

Slicing up a shallot, Dean’s phone rings, Jo’s name popping up on the screen. Flicking it to speaker and settling it on the counter, Dean answers. “Hi kiddo,” he says, squinting at the recipe he’s attempting to follow.

“Don’t call me that. What’s that noise?”

“I’m cooking.”

“Food? Actual solid food? Not some dumbass juice cleanse? Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

“Hilarious, thanks.” Dean throws the shallots in the pan and reaches for the bowl of shrimp he’s been marinating in garlic and chilli. “You want something or you just calling to bug me?”

“Dinner. You, me, Sam.”

Dean sighs. “Really?”

“Yes. Come on, Dean, I haven’t seen you since you got promoted, and Sam says you’re working all hours.”

“How would he know?”

“He does work in your company.”

“In IT. Like a nerd.” Dean throws the shrimp and marinade in the pan with the shallots, chops up some mushrooms and tosses them in the pan as well. “You two don’t have anything better to talk about other than me? Let me talk to Sam.”

Jo sighs, and then Sam comes on the line. “Hey, Dean.”

“So why am I being dragged to dinner and why are you reporting on me to my sister?”

“Because she’s a pain in my ass, and that’s worse than whatever you’d do to me.”

Dean stirs his mix with a wooden spoon and shrugs. “Fair. Hey, can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“Omegas.”

“What about them?”

“I met one at work, met him at work, Castiel Novak.”

“And?”

“And he—never mind.”

The line goes quiet and then he hears Sam telling Jo to leave him alone. “What is it? Dean?”

“He just—he smelt good.”

“I thought omegas wore blockers in public?”

“I think he was,” Dean says, turning the heat off under the pan and getting a plate out. “It was a faint smell, but it was there. Look, forget it, my dinner’s ready, I gotta go.” He ends the call, ignoring Sam’s protesting voice. “Fuck,” he mutters to himself, tipping the contents of the pan onto his plate and taking it over to the kitchen island. It tastes good, and he finds himself wondering if this is the kind of food Castiel would like; if he’d be interested in being cooked for, if he’d like to taste the things Dean cooks, and—Dean really needs to stop thinking about Castiel.

*

That vow lasts all the way to Tuesday; Dean gets a late start, working from home so that he can make the meeting with Castiel at the building. When he pulls up, Castiel is waiting for him outside, hands in his coat pockets, as he stands under the doorway entrance. Shoving some cash in the meter, Dean walks over to him. “Castiel, hi.”

“Hello, Dean.”

“Your brother not joining us?”

Castiel squints into the distance. “He is, but he’ll be late. He often is.”

“Okay,” Dean says. “I looked at the plans, and it’s doable, but it’s also going to involve serious renovation, are you ready for that? Time, and cost wise?”

“Whatever it takes,” Castiel says, taking his hands out of his pockets. “Shall we go in?”

“Yeah, yes, after you.” Dean watches Castiel open the door, tries not to stand too close to him for fear he’ll end up wanting to bury his face in Castiel’s neck to inhale his scent.

The building used to be an office block, and the elevators are still working, so they take them up to the top floor, Dean following Castiel through the hallways until they reach what was once the CEO’s office.

“I don’t think you’re going to fall through the floor,” Castiel says, a hint of a smile on his face as he watches Dean taking careful steps. “You’re safe, I had it surveyed before I ever put a bid in. If you were that worried, you shouldn’t have got in the elevator.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have minded getting stuck with you,” Dean says without thinking. Stopping by the remains of the desk, he looks at Cas with wide eyes, trying to gauge his reaction. “Sorry, I shouldn’t—”

“It’s fine,” Castiel says. “It takes a lot more than that to offend me.”

“I wasn’t—” Dean breaks off and runs a hand through his hair awkwardly. “Sorry. Man, I just keep making a bad impression on you, don’t I?”

Castiel tilts his head. “You want to make a good impression on me? Why?”

“Because we gotta work together,” Dean says with a shrug. “And, look, I don’t have that many friends in town. Any, actually. You seem kind of cool.”

“I’m not used to alphas wanting omegas to think good of them,” Castiel says, looking around the room at anything but Dean. “Most don’t care what omegas think of them.”

Dean makes a face. “Then they’re assholes, Cas. You—yeah, you’re an omega, but you’re a person. I admit, I got old fashioned tendencies, but not in the way you’re thinking. I don’t want omegas to walk behind me, or think that they’re only there to screw, or pop out babies.”

“What do you think, then?”

“Respect. Omegas should be treated with respect.”

Castiel doesn’t say anything, but Dean catches a small smile on his face as he looks around the room. “I know there’s a lot of work to be done to make this into what I want it to be,” Castiel says. “But it comes back to the same idea of respect. Omegas deserve an affordable and safe place to live.”

Dean’s about to respond when a crashing noise comes from outside the room, and two seconds later, a man walks into the room, walking over to Castiel and dragging him into a hug. “Castiel! You started without me!”

“You’re thirty minutes late, Gabriel,” Castiel says, twisting away from him, but with some fondness in his eyes. “Of course we started without you.”

“That hurts.” Gabriel turns around and reaches a hand out to Dean. “You must be Dean.”

It’s a firm handshake, an alpha handshake, and Dean doesn’t want to enter into a power play with Castiel’s brother; he tries to strike a balance between coming across as a strong alpha who would be good for Castiel, but not making this meeting into a challenge. There’s a sharp glint in Gabriel’s eye as he steps back from the handshake and Dean tries not to be too damn obvious about what his intentions are towards Castiel.

“So, you got yourself an alpha project manager,” Gabriel says, raising his eyebrows at Castiel. “Is that wise?”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Gabriel. Dean believes in what we’re doing. He’s more like you than Michael.”

“I can’t tell if I should be offended by that,” Dean says, looking between them. “I don’t even know who Michael is.”

“A brother,” Castiel says, arms unconsciously wrapping around himself. “If you were anything like him, neither of us would be here.”

“Okay,” Dean says, watching Castiel’s body language and changing the subject. “We can start the renovation whenever you’re ready, I’ve got the right guys on hold for this project. First, some demolition, and then the real work starts.”

Castiel relaxes, and there’s a look from Gabriel that Dean thinks is grudging approval. “Demolition to start the rebuild,” Gabriel says. “We’re pretty well versed in that. What do you say, Castiel?”

“Let’s get to work.”

*

“How was it?” Charlie asks as Dean approaches his office. “The meeting with Castiel?”

“Fine,” Dean says, walking inside and taking his coat off, hanging it up. “We’re going ahead with it, I got a list of companies we’ll be working with, did you get the email?”

“Yep,” Charlie says, following him in, holding her tablet in one hand. “You want me to start calling them?”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “Castiel and his brother want to get things started.”

“All these companies are omega friendly,” Charlie says, scanning the list. “I’m assuming that’s on purpose?”

Dean shrugs. “Why not? We have the choice, we’re the ones handing out the contracts, we may as well work with people who aren’t assholes.”

“Don’t let Zachariah hear you say that.”

“Oh I’m trying to avoid him as much as possible,” Dean says, pouring out two coffees for them. “Trust me.”

Charlie takes the mug of coffee he hands her. “So Sam said you asked him about omegas.”

“Do none of you have anything better to do than talk about me?”

“We have a lot of better things to talk about, he happened to mention it when I was fixing his laptop. You’re not that special, Dean.”

Dean sits down at his desk and looks at Charlie. “Just get me a start date.”

Charlie taps a finger against Dean’s forehead and heads out of the office, leaving Dean  
staring at the blank screen of his computer. If Zachariah finds out he’s only using omega friendly companies, he’s going to throw a shitfit, but Zachariah doesn’t pay attention to any of the details anymore; he cares more about how much money everyone is making than how they’re making it. If he does find out, then, well, Dean will deal with it. This project is worth a little drama at work.

*

The first day of renovation comes around quickly, and Dean heads over to the building, thick wool coat on to protect against the cold. Castiel is outside the building, watching as the workmen head inside.

“Hey Cas,” Dean says as he approaches. “Keeping an eye on things?”

“Dean, I didn’t expect you to come today,” Castiel says, blinking at him in surprise. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, no, nothing’s wrong. Just thought I’d come down and make sure everyone turned up.”

The corner’s of Castiel’s mouth turn up in a soft smile and he nods at Dean. “I guess we had the same idea,” he says. “I thought you’d have other things to do, you seem like a busy man.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, chest tightening a little. “This job, it takes up a lot of time. Probably too much. I’m trying to—” Dean breaks off. “You don’t need to hear this.”

“No, but I’d like to.” Castiel looks around. “I think I’ll be getting in the way here, I have a friend who is on site who I trust to keep an eye on things, do you have time for lunch?”

“I—yeah,” Dean says, mentally running down his schedule. “I’ve got an hour or so, there’s a diner a little way back nearer my office if you—if you’d like something fancier, then there’s other places we could—”

“A diner sounds great,” Castiel interrupts. “Really.”

*

The diner is a little busy, but they’re soon seated in a booth by the wall underneath a plastic flamingo that Dean hopes doesn’t make random noises. He’s nervous enough without spilling something on himself because of being startled by a plastic bird. There’s a greasy scent in the air, Dean hasn’t been in a place like this for a long time, and he’s starting to wonder why on earth he’s been depriving himself of actual food for as long as he has been. Eyeing the burgers and platters being carried to other tables, Dean hopes he isn’t drooling at the sight of so much food. Turning away from the rest of the diner, Dean looks at Castiel who is studying the menu with a furrowed brow. He can’t smell Castiel’s scent, whether it’s because of the overwhelming diner scents or because Castiel is wearing blockers, Dean can’t tell, but he’s a little bit disappointed.

“Have you decided what you want?” Castiel asks, looking up from the menu.

“Uh, yeah, I’m just gonna get—” Dean glances down at the menu. “The double cheeseburger, extra bacon. What?” he asks, catching Castiel’s eye. “Is there something wrong with that order?”

“No, I just, after you were on a treadmill when I came to your office, I assumed you were one of those health obsessed alphas.”

“Well, I was. I am.” Dean shakes his head. “Honestly I don’t know anymore. The lifestyle? Sitting at a desk most days, late nights, all of that, I didn’t really have time to eat properly, so I existed on faddy diets, but now I’ve got the promotion I was working towards, and I figure—”

“You can enjoy what you didn’t have before?”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “Exactly that. I’m trying to cook, I mean, I know how to cook, but I’ve never had to put it into practice before.”

“You know how to cook?” Castiel says after the waitress has taken their orders.

Dean nods. “It’s soothing, and I always thought—” Dean breaks off, feeling the heat rise on his cheeks. “I didn’t want to be useless, if I found a mate.” He fiddles with his coffee mug, fingers running along the rim. “Traditional alphas, I know what they expect, but if I were lucky enough to be able to create a home with someone, I wouldn’t want them to do everything. I’d want to contribute.”

“Oh,” Castiel says, taking a sip of his coffee. “That’s not what I expect from alphas, even nowadays.”

“That’s me,” Dean says with a wink. “Always defying expectations.”

Castiel laughs at that, a low chuckle that hits Dean right in his gut. “I guess I’ll learn that,” Castiel says.

“I hope so,” Dean says as their food arrives. “How did you get started?” he asks, picking up some fries and biting into them.

Staring down at his burger, Castiel doesn’t answer immediately, and Dean’s about to apologise when Castiel shakes his head. “I didn’t have the best start,” he says quietly. “My family, they were traditional in the old ways, and when I presented as an omega, they—” Castiel stops talking and shrugs. “Gabriel was the reason I survived it at all. He protected me.”

“Cas, really, if you don’t—”

“No,” Castiel says. “I don’t—I’m not _damaged_ , Dean. My parents, they died before I presented, when I say family I mean my older brothers. I was left a trust fund, they tried to limit my access because of what I am, but Gabriel had managed to make some very powerful friends and now they have no impact on my life.”

“That’s why you’re using your money to create a space for omegas?”

Castiel nods, picking up his burger. “Yes. I don’t want anyone to have to deal with what I did.”

“That’s pretty awesome, Cas,” Dean says, and if he takes a little pleasure at the way Castiel’s cheeks flush, well, that’s between him and his brain.

*

Stepping out of the meeting room, Dean rolls his eyes at Charlie as she hands him a coffee.

“That bad?” she asks in a low voice.

“Next time I have a meeting with the higher ups, remind me to call in sick,” he says out of the corner of his mouth.

Charlie laughs as they walk back towards Dean’s office. “Don’t think that’s usually an option. Mr Novak is waiting for you, by the way.”

“Cas?” Dean takes a large gulp of his coffee. “Did we have a meeting?”

“Nothing on the books,” Charlie says. “I figured it was okay to let him wait in your office?”

“Yeah, yes, that’s fine. The project’s making good progress,” he says as they walk. “Walls are going up and they’re done with the plumbing.”

“That’s fast.”

“Good workers,” Dean says. “Cas was prepared to pay for the best, so he got the best.”

Charlie whistles. “Just how much _is_ his trust fund?”

“I never asked.”

“You don’t want to be a kept alpha?”

Dean makes a face. “Please stop talking,” he says, as they approach his office. The door is open and he can see Cas sitting at the desk; Dean pauses by the door for a moment before Charlie elbows him, making him yelp which, in turn, makes Cas turn around.

“Are you okay?” Cas asks, rising from the chair.

“Fine,” Dean says, shooting a soft glare at Charlie. “My assistant thinks it’s funny to beat me up.”

“Please,” Charlie says. “It was an elbow. Hi, Mr Novak, can I get you anything?”

“I’m good, thank you.”

“Okay, I guess I’ll leave you to talk,” Charlie says as Dean heads inside the office, closing the door behind him.

“What’s up, Cas?” Dean asks as they walk over to the desk, Castiel taking the seat he had before. “Everything’s on track with the project, isn’t it?”

“Everything’s going well, yes. I need to make choices about the bathroom fittings for the apartments and Gabriel is being very unhelpful, I thought—you have experience, so—if you’re busy then I can—”

“I’ve got time,” Dean interrupts. It’s not really a lie, he has work that he should be doing, but he can take it home with him instead, or stay late. As much as he’s been trying not to do that, if it means getting extra time with Cas, he’s going to do it. “What are you working from?”

They spread the choices across the floor and sit down, leaning against the couch that Dean doesn’t remember picking out, and getting stuck in. Castiel has narrowed things down, he shows Dean the ones that Gabriel has picked out, and Dean can understand why Castiel wants a different opinion. There’s a lot to consider, and Dean doesn’t realise how much time has passed until he starts being aware of a different scent in the air.

“Cas, I—I think your scent blockers are wearing off.”

“Oh,” Castiel jumps up, almost instinctively putting a distance between he and Dean. “I didn’t, how long have I been here?”

Dean glances at his watch. “Three hours. Do you have any on you?”

“No, I didn’t plan to be out this long. I can call Gabriel—”

“Cas, no, I’ll drive you home. If you trust me to,” Dean says. “If you’d feel more comfortable with Gabriel then I understand.”

Castiel shakes his head. “If you’re okay with driving me, then I accept, thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Castiel says firmly. “I trust you.”

*

Dean’s anxious on the drive to Castiel’s house; he doesn’t want to act like a typical alpha, but Castiel’s scent is all around him, to the point where Dean wonders if he’s even going to be able to drive home without jerking off. Shifting in his seat, Dean follows Castiel’s directions until he’s pulling up outside a small house, door painted a stark green.

Switching the engine off, Dean turns to Castiel. “I’m not going to insult you by asking if you need to be escorted to the door.”

Castiel laughs softly. “Thank you, Dean. I can make the walk myself, but I do appreciate the ride,” he says. “I’ve had too many unfortunate experiences to be fully comfortable making the journey without my blockers.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, his hands clenching unconsciously at the thought of Cas being harassed like that. “Cas, I know that we’re just working together, but if you get stuck like this again, and Gabriel isn’t around, then call me. I’ll be there.”

“Thank you,” Castiel says after a beat, studying Dean’s face. “And, forgive me if I’m crossing a line, but I don’t think of us as just working together. I think of us as friends, or we could be friends, we get on and—”

“We do get on,” Dean interrupts with a smile. “Friends, yeah, I—tell you the truth, Cas, I haven’t had much luck in that department, I work too hard, I spend too much time in the office, I miss events and birthdays...” Dean trails off and shrugs. “Trust me, I got a laundry list of characters defects.”

“I think I’d like to find that out for myself,” Castiel says, meeting Dean’s eyes and smiling slightly. “If you’ll let me.”

Dean runs a hand through his hair, ducking his head. “Yeah,” he says, keeping the nervous tremble out of his voice. “I’ll let you.” He watches, mouth slightly open, as Castiel reaches over and squeezes Dean’s forearm once before letting go and heading out of the car. Dean waits until Castiel is inside, door closed behind him, before he starts the car and drives away.

*

It turns out not to be idle words. The next week, Castiel stops by the office with lunch, and it’s not until he walks in and the smell of pizza hits Dean in the face, his stomach giving a rumble even he wasn’t expecting, that Dean realises what the time is.

“Hungry?” Castiel asks as he sets the box on Dean’s desk.

“I’m a little bit in love with you,” Dean says absently as he lifts the lid, inhaling the grease and cheese. “Uh.” Dean looks up, catching the wide eyed look on Castiel’s face. “I mean. Can we just—thanks for bringing this, you didn’t have to.”

Castiel takes a slice from the box. “I have an ulterior motive,” he says before biting into the slice and chewing slowly. “A magazine has discovered what we’re doing, and wants to interview me.”

“That’s great, Cas,” Dean says, grabbing his own slice. “If you want to do it, I mean, you don’t have to.”

“I do, I just—I’ve never done anything like this before, and the angle they want to take is important for other omegas.” Castiel leans forward in his chair and there’s a spark in his eyes that Dean can’t help but fall into. “I want to do it right.”

“What do you want from me?” Dean asks. “Cas, I’m no PR guy, but if you want someone with you, I can come with you, or—”

“I’d like that,” Castiel says. “I can only speak to some of what we’re doing, you’re the one who knows the details, and I—”

“Cas,” Dean interrupts, a soft smile on his face. “When is it?”

“They want to have it in the magazine to coincide with the opening of the building,” Castiel says. “Next Thursday, if that’s okay?”

Dean pulls up his calendar and nods. “I have meetings in the morning, but the afternoon will work.” There’s a knock at Dean’s door followed by it being pushed open, and Dean looks up to see Sam walking in. “Who invited you?”

“No one,” Sam says, walking over. “Charlie said you have pizza.”

“Charlie should’ve known that the pizza is for me and Cas here,” Dean says, shutting the lid before Sam can grab a slice.

Sam rolls his eyes and turns to Castiel. “Nice to meet you,” Sam says. “I’m Sam, I work in IT here, and I’m dating his sister.”

“Much to my general disgust,” Dean says. “Is there something you want aside from pizza?”

“System update tonight,” Sam says. “Reminding you to go home so that people like me can get our work done.”

“You could’ve emailed,” Dean says, glaring at Sam. “Saved yourself the trip.”

“Pizza, dude,” Sam says. “And I wanted to meet Mr Novak here, since he occupies so much of your time, according to Jo.”

Dean shakes his head, and opens the lid of the box. “If I give you pizza, will you leave and stop gossiping about me with my sister?”

“Maybe.”

“Just take a slice and go.”

Sam laughs, grabbing the biggest slice and walking out of the office. Dean fiddles with a paper napkin, ripping it up a little before looking at Castiel. “Sorry about that,” he says. “I’m surrounded by fools.”

“It’s nice that you have so many people who care about you,” Castiel says, taking another slice. “I have, well, I have Gabriel.”

“You have me too, Cas,” Dean says, getting up and walking over to his mini fridge to grab them drinks. “I’ll be there for the interview, okay? Just text me where I need to be.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

Dean hands Castiel a soda. “We’re friends, Cas, whatever you need.”

*

That night, Dean leaves the office earlier than usual and heads to the gym. It’s not the pizza that’s got him heading there, it’s the extra energy that he feels whenever he’s around Castiel that’s making him need to burn it off. Starting on the treadmill, Dean sets a steady pace, feet pounding as he runs. All he can think about is Castiel, it’s like his brain has been taken over, and he _knows_ what that means, what this could be, but it’s terrifying him.

Dean didn’t expect to find a mate; he always knew it was rare, that most alphas settled for someone they fell in love with instead of someone who they could bond with, and that’s what he thought would happen with him, especially considering how much he worked. When Castiel walked into his office, though, it hit him like a ton of bricks, and Dean hasn’t recovered from that. He’s not sure he ever will.

Sweat dripping down his face, Dean hits stop on the machine and grips the rails, breathing heavily. Grabbing his towel, he wipes his face and gets off the treadmill, looking around the gym at the other people in there. It’s an alpha only gym, and there’s a bunch of them by the free weights acting like idiots and trying to out alpha each other. Dean’s never been one for that, especially not as he’s gotten older, and as much as he wants to do some lifting, he’s not in the mood for posturing the way they all are.

Skipping the shower, Dean grabs his bag from the locker room and heads home in his sweaty gym gear. It’s not too far, and when he gets home, he strips off, dropping his clothes in the laundry basket and heading into the bathroom. Switching the shower on, Dean steps under the spray, groaning when the water pressure hits his stiff muscles. He’s exhausted, a combination of spending so long in the office over the past week, and forgetting to stretch before he came home adding up to make his body ache in all kinds of places.

Grabbing the shower gel, some fruity thing that cost more than he would admit to spending, Dean soaps up his body and breathes in the scent. Running his hands down his chest, Dean closes his eyes as his fingers skirt over his stomach, aware of his dick starting to thicken, and he gives in, stroking himself a couple of times until he’s fully hard. The water’s pounding down on him, and he opens his eyes, making his way to sit down on the bench by the wall, not wanting to give himself an injury to explain tomorrow at work.

Spreading his legs, Dean tips his head back and lets his eyes fall closed again. Swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, he works his hand around his dick, wanting to drag this out for as long as he possibly can because it’s been so damn long since he’s had time for anything other than a quick jerk. Bringing his other hand up to play with his nipples, Dean groans, thinking about Castiel’s hands on him, wondering what he’d do if they ever made it to bed; if he’d be quiet, if he’d beg a little if Dean held out on him, if he’d push back against Dean’s dick in desperation to be fucked.

Dean’s imagination runs away with him as he thinks about getting Castiel into his bed, and before he knows it, his dick is thickening at the base. Eyes shooting open, he stares down at his dick as if he’s never seen it before. “The fuck,” he mutters. “I wasn’t even—” The only time he’s ever popped a knot while jerking off has been during a rut, and back when he was a teenager and first presented. This isn’t—Dean slumps back against the wall as he suddenly realises that it isn’t an early rut, but that it’s thinking of Castiel that’s got him in this state. “Fuck,” he breathes out, wrapping his hand around himself again, tighter this time, knowing what his body needs. It pales in comparison to actually knotting an omega, but for his purposes it should work.

When Dean comes, he’s thinking about Castiel’s eyes locked with his. He’s boneless, and it takes him a moment to stand up and let the spray wash the results of his orgasm down the drain. Suddenly, everything he’s been doing with Castiel takes on a startling clarity, which would be great if Dean had any idea how to deal with it now.

*

After they do the interview, Dean barely sees or speaks to Castiel aside from a few hurried emails whenever Castiel asks for help with various aspects of the project. Before Dean realises it, months have passed without seeing him, and Dean—he feels shitty about it. There’s no two ways about it, he’s been an absent friend, and he knew this would happen, he knew he’d let Castiel down just because of how his busy life is.

He can’t get it out of his head, each day he wakes up he thinks about texting Castiel, but then he gets caught up in all the reasons he shouldn’t, gets caught up in thinking that he’s left it too long and Castiel won’t want to talk to him.

Dean hates this, the uncertainty of not knowing if he’s allowed to get back in contact with him; he knows he’s probably overreacting, but he’s let the knowledge of what Castiel could be to him get his brain twisted. He’s being an asshole to everyone at work, Charlie’s let him know that in no uncertain terms, and Dean’s trying to avoid contact with Zachariah just in case he manages to get fired.

Dean never wanted to be one of those alphas who needs an omega to find balance in his life, but it’s starting to feel like maybe if he doesn’t have the only omega he wants in his life then he’s going to turn into one of those alphas. Squinting at his computer screen, Dean sighs loudly, the feeling in his gut that’s been there for months making him sick weighing heavier than ever.

“I’m going for coffee,” Dean says as he walks past Charlie’s desk. “If I don’t come back, I’m working from home.”

“Good,” Charlie mutters, and Dean lets it go because he knows he’s been a dick for weeks.

The coffee shop in the building is too busy for Dean’s liking, so he takes the short walk to the hipster place that sells a really good caramel macchiato and is never too busy at this time of day. There’s only a few people in the shop when he gets there, and Dean heads to the counter where Tessa greets him with a smile as he orders, pointing out the banana muffins on display.

“I shouldn’t, really,” Dean says, paying for his drink. “Not with that drink, I haven’t been able to get to the gym lately.”

“Falling back into old habits?” comes a voice from behind Dean, and Dean turns around quickly, because he knows that voice, knows that scent that’s suddenly surrounding him.

“Cas?” Dean pauses, taking Castiel in. He looks just as good as he did the last time Dean saw him, possibly better; his hair is slightly grown out and looks a mess, but he’s got a smile on his face, and part of Dean knows he doesn’t deserve that smile. “Hi, I mean, I didn’t expect—” Dean breaks off and shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he says, finally.

“For what?” Castiel asks before he gives Tessa his order, adding two banana muffins that Dean knows he’s going to share with him.

“For being a shitty friend,” Dean says, distracted by how strong Cas’ scent is. “It’s been months, Cas and I—”

“I could’ve done things differently,” Castiel interrupts. “I’ve been busy with the project amongst other parts of my work, and I know you have other things to work on that keep you busy. We’re both adults, Dean, no one’s at fault here.”

“Kinda feel like I am,” Dean says, taking his drink from Tessa. “Thanks, Tessa.”

“Dean, I—” Castiel breaks off, frustrated. “Will you join me for a coffee? Start over. Sit over there and I’ll join you.”

Dean’s not going to say no to this opportunity, and so he takes his drink over to the table Castiel pointed out, sitting down and trying to work out why Castiel’s scent is so strong to him today, to the point where he can still smell it even at this distance. There’s no way Castiel would risk going out without scent blockers, and Dean wonders if it’s just because he hasn’t seen Castiel in so long that he’s picked up on his scent more than he would’ve otherwise. He’s so lost in thought, it takes him a moment to notice the commotion at the counter, but as soon as he does, he catches Castiel’s distressed scent.

There’s two alphas, holding a magazine up next to Castiel’s face and laughing. They’re not touching him, but Castiel is flinching away from them and Dean can see he’s trying to find a way out, but they have him boxed in. Tessa’s trying to get them away, but the knotheads won’t deign to listen to a female alpha, and Dean’s already on his feet before he can think about what he’s doing, or the fact that he’s outnumbered.

“Hey,” he calls as he closes in on them. “Back off.”

“Oh,” one of them says, squinting in recognition as he looks at Dean. “It’s the alpha from the magazine, the one who doesn’t have a claim on this one.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “I don’t need to claim an omega to be around them, unlike you, because that’s the only way an omega would ever be around you for more than three seconds.”

It takes the knothead a second to realise the insult, and then he’s moving towards Dean, grabbing him by the coat. “I could have any omega I wanted.”

“Sure,” Dean says. “It’s good that _you_ believe that.” With that, Dean shoves the guy off him, pushing him so hard that he knocks into the other alpha, and they both go tumbling to the floor. Castiel’s still standing by the counter, his drink spilt across the surface and his face drained. Dean picks up the magazine and hands it to Castiel. “Take this,” he says, before turning back to the pair of knotheads. “You both get out.”

Tessa stands over them, next to Dean and nods. “If I see you in here again, you’ll be sorry. You want to treat omegas like that, find somewhere else to get your coffee.”

The larger one looks like he’s going to argue, but his friend pulls him out, the door clanging behind them as they leave. Dean watches them go before he turns back to Castiel. “Hey,” he says quietly. “Are you okay?”

“I think so.”

“Do you want to get out of here?”

Castiel nods, still holding the magazine. “I was going to show you this,” he says, absently. “It’s the interview we did, I got a copy today, I didn’t expect to bump into you, but I was going to come by—”

“Cas, you’re rambling,” Dean says. “My car is at the office, do you want to come back to my apartment?”

“I—”

“You don’t have to,” Dean says hastily. “We can go somewhere else, or you can stay here while I get the car, whatever you want.”

“No,” Castiel says. “I’ll come with you.”

*

The drive back is quiet, Castiel folded into himself where he sits in the passenger seat, and Dean can’t help the worry churning in his gut. Castiel’s scent is still strong, and Dean’s starting to wonder if he’s got a heat coming up soon; if he does, Dean knows that Castiel coming back to his apartment alone is an astounding measure of trust, and Dean’s determined not to take advantage of that trust.

After they walk into the apartment, Dean shrugs off his coat, and takes Castiel’s as well, hanging them up by the door before heading towards the kitchen, Castiel following him. Taking a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen island, Castiel puts the magazine down and wraps his arms around himself, slightly hunched over.

“Coffee?” Dean asks. “Nothing fancy, but I can do black, and it’s good quality.”

“Please,” Castiel says. “I—thank you. I don’t like being rescued, but—”

“That wasn’t rescuing, Cas, don’t think like that.”

Castiel shrugs, his eyes lowered. “I can’t help it, I shouldn’t have put myself in that position.”

“That’s bullshit,” Dean says sharply. “Just because you’re close to—” he breaks off and waves a hand, indicating what he means. “That doesn’t mean you deserved to be harassed by those knotheads. You should be able to go out wherever you want, whenever you want.” Pouring out a mug of steaming coffee, Dean hands it to Castiel. “Drink that,” he says. “You’ll feel better.”

“I doubt it,” Castiel says, taking the mug anyway as Dean goes to pour himself a mug.

Dean turns back, seeing that Castiel has picked up the magazine. “How did the interview turn out?” he asks, gesturing with his mug.

“Good,” Castiel says. “Embarrassing.”

“Why?”

“Read it.” Castiel puts the magazine on the island and pushes it over to Dean.

Dean flicks through the pages until he gets to the interview; there’s a photograph of Castiel looking sharp in a well fitting suit, and Dean unconsciously licks his lips as he looks at it. Quickly diverting his attention to the words, Dean reads the article; it’s longer than he expected, and despite Dean having been there for the interview, he’s pleased when he realises that it concentrates more on Castiel and the work he’s been doing than it does on whatever Dean had said during the interview.

“Cas, this is perfect,” Dean says when he’s done. “It’s not embarrassing, everything they’ve written is true.”

“They make me sound like an omega saviour,” Castiel protests, lifting his mug up as if he’s trying to hide behind it. “I’m just building apartments.”

“After today you’re going to tell me it’s not important that omegas have somewhere safe?”

“That’s not—” Castiel breaks off, frowning, placing his mug on the island. “I’m doing what anyone would do.”

“The fact it hasn’t been done before says otherwise,” Dean says, walking around the island until he’s in front of Castiel. Reaching out, he touches Castiel’s hand, wondering if maybe he’s pushing a boundary, but when Castiel doesn’t object and links their fingers together, Dean relaxes. “What you’re doing is important,” Dean says. “Take the praise, Cas. Please.”

Castiel nods, squeezing Dean’s hand, but not letting go. “Can you—if you have to get back to work, then I understand—”

“I don’t,” Dean says. “I can take an afternoon off, in fact, everyone might be happy if I did.”

“Why?”

“I’ve been a pain in the ass lately,” Dean says as Castiel gets off the stool he’s been sitting on, still holding Dean’s hand. “I, uh—”

“What?” Castiel asks, his mouth parted slightly as he looks at Dean. “What is it?”

“I missed you,” Dean blurts out. “Not staying in touch with you sucked, and I don’t want to deal with that again. You, fuck, I shouldn’t be doing this before your heat, this isn’t because of that; you smell incredible, but you always did, from the moment you stepped into my office and—” Dean’s cut off by the sudden press of Castiel’s mouth against his, and he’s taken aback, doesn’t even start to kiss back until he feels Castiel back away. Dropping his grip on Castiel’s hand, he cups Castiel’s face with one hand, keeping him close, smiling into the kiss when Castiel’s hands grip his waist.

Castiel’s scent is making Dean’s head swim and he breaks the kiss, resting their foreheads together. “You—you’re too close to your heat, I can’t—”

“I know,” Castiel says quietly. “I know, I just wanted you to know that I feel the same way, I—” Castiel breaks off, licking his lips. “I’ve been attracted to you since I saw you on the treadmill in your office, and then you—I didn’t think I’d meet an alpha like you.”

“I’m nothing special.”

“I disagree,” Castiel says, leaning in and placing a soft kiss to the corner of Dean’s mouth. “I should go, I can call Gabriel to pick me up.”

“Can I drive you home?” Dean asks, reluctant to let Castiel out of his sight, even though he knows he’s going to have to. “If that’s okay.”

“I’d like that.”

Dean strokes his thumb across Castiel’s cheek. “Do you—it might be too soon, but do you want something with my scent? I know heats are tough, would it make it easier?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel says, his brow furrowed as he contemplates it. “But I think I’d like something with your scent.”

“Okay,” Dean says, stepping back from Castiel and looking around before his eyes fall on the blanket he bought a little while ago. “I’ve been falling asleep on the couch lately,” he says, walking over to it and picking it up. “With this, I think—if anything carries my scent, it’ll be this.”

He hands it over to Castiel, their fingers brushing together as he does, and he can feel something low in his gut twist as he watches Castiel bring the blanket up to his face and inhale. It sparks a primal reaction in Dean that he didn’t think he still had; he tries his hardest to push it down, but there must be something on his face because Castiel’s looking at him like he wants to forget being sensible and let Dean drag him to the bedroom.

Taking a step back, Dean exhales. “Maybe Gabriel should pick you up,” he says. “I want to spend more time with you, I do, but—”

“You might be right,” Castiel says, his voice rough. “I should—I’ll text him.”

When Gabriel comes to get Castiel, Dean feels every one of his alpha instincts yelling at him not to let Castiel go, but he ignores it, trying to be content with knowing that Castiel has the blanket carrying his scent.

It almost works.

*

Dean stays late at the office the next day; he started the day with a text from Gabriel telling him that Castiel’s heat had started, and Dean’s spent the whole day trying to bury himself in work to distract himself from wanting to run over to Castiel’s place and spend the week with him.

When he gets back to his apartment that evening it feels empty without Castiel, and Dean wonders if it’s ever not going to feel like something’s missing now that he’s had Castiel here. In the kitchen, he heats up some leftover macaroni cheese, feeling the need for indulgent food. Dean looks around the room as he waits for it to be done, imagining every space that Castiel could fit, wanting to know what Castiel would do with the decor, what he would change, how he’d make the apartment theirs instead of just Dean’s place.

Tugging his phone out, Dean opens his messages and dithers over texting Gabriel before giving in. He gets a response two minutes later telling him that Castiel’s fine, it’s curt, and it’s not enough for Dean, so he hits call.

“What do you want?” Gabriel answers. “You’re not coming here.”

“No, I know,” Dean says. “I just want to know how he is.”

“After you sent him home with that token?”

“It’s not a token,” Dean says, rubbing his fingers against his forehead. “I wanted him—when he’s not in heat I’m going to take him out on a date, okay?”

“A date.”

“Yes. A date, a meal, a place where we can sit and hold hands and annoy everyone else with being kind of gross.” Dean’s aware that he’s close to yelling, and he tries to calm down. “Gabriel, I—Castiel’s it for me. I’ve never wanted an omega the way I want him, and I’ve known it for months now. This isn’t because he’s in heat, he’s not a trophy, he’s—” Dean breaks off, an involuntary smile on his face. “He’s Cas.”

Gabriel’s quiet, and for a moment Dean thinks he’s hung up, but then there’s a sigh coming down the line. “You really feel this way?” Gabriel asks.

“Yeah. I do.”

“Cas is doing okay,” Gabriel says. “I think the blanket is helping, actually. I’ll have him call you when he can.”

“Okay,” Dean says. “Thanks, Gabriel.”

Gabriel hangs up without saying goodbye, just as the timer goes for Dean’s dinner. He puts the phone on the counter and gets the macaroni cheese out, dumping it on a plate and pouring himself some water. It’s something, knowing that the blanket is helping Castiel, and Dean clings to that little bit of information, but he wishes he could be there with him.

*

A week later, Dean’s phone goes off while he’s going through a contract, and he’s about to hit ignore when he realises it’s Castiel’s name on the screen.

“Hey,” Dean says when he answers. “How are you?”

“Tired,” Castiel responds, his voice sounding hoarse. “It’s been a long week.”

“But you—you’re okay? Did the blanket help?”

“It did. It was comforting, having your scent with me. I appreciated it.”

Dean smiles to himself, leaning back in his chair. “Of course, Cas. Whatever you need,” Dean says. “I mean it. Look, Cas, I—can we do this right? Can I take you out on a date?”

“I’d love that,” Castiel says after a pause. “I need to catch up on some sleep, and I have to check in with work, but Friday night?”

“Yes, yeah, that works,” Dean says. “I know a place, I’ll call you with the details?”

“Okay,” Castiel says. “I—I’m looking forward to it, Dean.”

“Me too, Cas.”

It takes a while, but eventually they say goodbye, and when Dean ends the call, he realises he’s still smiling. Trying to get back to his work, Dean taps his pen against the table before getting up and walking out of his office to see Charlie. “Hi,” he says, leaning against her desk.

Charlie looks up. “What’s going on?” she asks, looking wary. “Your face looks creepy.”

“What? No it doesn’t.”

“You look like you’ve got someone pulling on your cheeks.”

“I don’t,” Dean says, trying to school his face into a neutral look.

“And now you’re doing your resting serial killer model face. Seriously, Dean, what do you want, I have got work to do.”

“I’m going on a date with Cas,” he says. “On Friday.”

“Good for you,” Charlie says. “At least now you won’t be an asshole at work.”

Dean winces. “I am sorry about that,” he says. “And I bought you the new Hermione Funko to make up for it.”

“Which I very much appreciate. Now get back to work,” Charlie says with a smile as she taps Hermione on the head. “Wear the green shirt on your date, Cas’ll like it,” she calls out as Dean heads back to his office.

*

Dean spends all of Friday almost vibrating out of his skin, he skips out of work early because he can’t concentrate, and heads to the gym to try and work of some of his nerves. There’s a free punching bag towards the back; he straps his gloves on and starts punching, concentrating on nothing more than the sound of leather against leather and the sweat dripping down his body. His arms are heavy by the time he’s done, and he steps back, wiping his forehead with the bottom of his shirt before using his teeth to get his gloves off.

The nerves are still there, but when Dean glances at one of the televisions in the gym, he realises he’s only got a few hours until he’s got to pick Castiel up. Quickly wiping himself down, he skips the shower in the gym and heads home in his gym gear.

After getting home and showering, Dean sits on the edge of his bed in his boxers, checking his phone to make sure Castiel hasn’t cancelled. He’s not used to being this nervous, but he also hasn’t been on a date that’s meant this much before. There’s a message on his phone from Castiel, and for a moment his heart sinks, but it’s just Castiel wanting to confirm the time Dean’s picking him up; Dean responds and very quickly gets a smiley face emoji in reply which leaves him staring at his phone like an idiot.

Shaking himself out of it, Dean gets dressed, putting on the green shirt Charlie told him to, and not bothering with a tie, not wanting to look too formal. He spends too much time fixing his hair, and the next time he glances at his watch Dean realises he has to leave now or risk being late.

Castiel is waiting outside his place when Dean pulls up, and he leans out of the window, calling over to him. “Am I late?”

“No,” Castiel says, walking over and getting in the car. “I was nervous waiting indoors. It’s stupid, I know.”

“I skipped out of work early because I was nervous,” Dean says as he drives. “Went to the gym to try to work them away.”

“You were nervous?”

“Still am. This means a lot to me, Cas. You mean a lot to me.”

“I guess we’re well matched then,” Castiel says, a small smile on his face. “You mean a lot to me too.”

Dean returns the smile, and carries on driving to the restaurant. It’s a local Italian place that Dean discovered when he moved to the city, he used to eat there all the time, but hasn’t had time to visit lately.

When they walk in, Dean watches Castiel carefully for his reaction to the restaurant, and is gratified when Castiel visibly relaxes as he looks around the cosy interior. The owner, Bela, is there to greet them, and raises an eyebrow at Dean behind Castiel’s back that Dean knows means she approves of him. She leads them towards a table, far away enough from the other patrons in the place, and Dean nods his thanks at her as they sit down.

“You’ve been here before,” Castiel says, looking at the menu.

“A lot,” Dean says. “When I first moved here, I didn’t have an apartment with a real kitchen, and so whenever I wanted some good food I’d come here. Bela, she’s been running it for years, started in the kitchen and worked her way up until the original owners retired. She’s taken great care of the place.”

“What do you recommend?”

“Everything,” Dean says, smiling when Castiel laughs. “I’m serious! It’s all good food, whatever you order.”

There’s a small pink tinge on Castiel’s cheeks as he meets Dean’s eyes, and it’s in that moment that Dean knows the night is going to be everything he’s ever wanted.

*

By the time they leave the restaurant, it’s coming close to midnight, neither of them have been drinking, and when they make it to the car, Dean holds the door open for Castiel.

“You don’t have to—”

“Get in the car, Cas.”

Dean pauses once they’re inside and he’s started the engine. “Am I taking you home, or—”

“Can we go back to your apartment?” Castiel asks. “I don’t—I’m not a clingy omega, but I don’t want to go home yet.”

“I can do that,” Dean says, reaching over and taking Castiel’s hand. “I can definitely do that.”

*

There’s a weight of anticipation when they make it back to the apartment, Dean’s arm around Cas’ shoulders, holding him close during the ride in the elevator, and when the apartment door closes behind them, Dean doesn’t know what to do. He feels like a teenager on his first date, the nerves he’s been feeling all day coming back with a vengeance. “Uh, do you want to have a seat?” he asks, taking Castiel’s coat and hanging it up. “Or—”

“Can we go to bed?” Castiel asks, before widening his eyes. “I didn’t mean—I’m not propositioning you.”

“Okay,” Dean says slowly. “What did you—I mean—”

“To sleep,” Castiel says. “It’s not that I don’t want you, but I—I can’t jump into something. Even with you. If that’s not okay, then I can go, or—”

“No,” Dean interrupts, holding up a hand. “I get it. Cas, I don’t know what you’ve gone through, what other alphas have expected from you, but if you don’t want to do anything tonight then that’s okay. Cas, honestly? I’m just happy to be around you.”

“Dean—”

“I mean it,” Dean says, taking a few steps to close the gap between them and touching Castiel’s face gently, kissing him softly. “Trust me.”

“I do,” Castiel says. “That’s the problem.”

Dean smiles, taking Castiel’s hand, and leads him towards the bedroom. “Do you want something to sleep in?” he asks.

Castiel shakes his head. “Spare toothbrush?”

“Under the sink,” Dean says, gesturing with a hand to the ensuite. “Everything’s in there.”

Dean’s never had someone to run through his bedtime routine with before, and it almost scares him how easily it comes to him, moving around Castiel the same way Castiel moves around him. He meets Castiel’s eyes in the mirror as they’re brushing their teeth and Dean can’t get over just how right this feels.

Castiel’s stripped down to his boxers, like Dean, and they crawl into bed. “Are you tired?” Dean asks, just about able to make out Castiel’s face in the dark.

“Kind of,” Castiel says. “Why?”

Shuffling forward, the sheets cool against his heated skin, Dean places a hand on Castiel’s bare shoulder and brushes his lips against Castiel’s face, seeking out his mouth. Sinking into the kiss, Dean rolls Castiel onto his back, keeping himself hyper aware of any sign that Castiel isn’t okay with what they’re doing; judging by the way Castiel is running his hands down Dean’s bare back, Dean figures this is more than okay. Losing himself in the feel of Castiel underneath him, Dean noses at Castiel’s neck, scraping his teeth against Castiel’s skin, his blood humming at the noises that Castiel’s making.

Knowing he’s going to have the scent of Castiel in his sheets gives Dean the strength to pull away, pressing one last kiss against Castiel’s mouth. “You okay?” Dean asks, ignoring the hardness of his dick in his boxers. “I didn’t—”

“Dean, I’m not fragile,” Castiel says, reaching up and brushing a hand over Dean’s hair. “I’m more than capable of fighting off unwanted advances and nothing about tonight has been unwanted.” This is followed by a yawn and Castiel laughs softly. “Maybe I am a little tired, though.”

“Then we should go to sleep,” Dean says, rolling onto his back and letting Castiel arrange himself however he wants. He ends up with Castiel resting his head against the crook of Dean’s neck, arm flung over his chest, and Dean knows there’s a big possibility he’s going to wake up with a dead arm from Castiel laying on it, but he can’t bring himself to mind.

*

Castiel all but moves into Dean’s apartment after their date; both of them still work long hours, but whenever they’re able, Castiel comes over and stays the night. The extra toothbrush from that first night has become Castiel’s toothbrush, he has a side of the bed with books he’s been reading stacked on the bedside table, and whenever Dean goes for groceries he ends up adding organic honey because Castiel likes to have a teaspoon of it in his tea when he wakes up. Dean’s suddenly finding himself building a life with someone, and it’s equal parts terrifying and exciting.

When he gets home, Castiel is already there, curled up on the couch with a blanket, his laptop, and Cupcake Wars on the television.

“Hey,” Dean says, dropping his briefcase and shrugging his coat off. Toeing off his shoes, Dean pushes them against the wall before walking over to Castiel. Leaning over the back of the couch, Dean kisses the top of Castiel’s head. “Good day?”

“Most of the apartments are filled,” Castiel says, staring at his laptop. “The realtor says we’re getting a lot of applications.” Looking up at Dean, Castiel smiles at him. “I was thinking about something.”

“Yeah? Can I get out of the suit first? Zachariah was all over my ass today.”

“It’ll wait,” Castiel assures him. “Go get changed.”

Dean brushes a hand over the back of Castiel’s neck and heads towards the bedroom. Quickly stripping down, he tugs on a pair of sweatpants and walks into the bathroom to splash water on his face. Staring at himself in the mirror, Dean sighs, not liking the small lines of stress he can see in his face. He loves his job when he gets to work on projects like Castiel’s, but most of the time he’s working on identical buildings for companies who just want taller and taller skyscrapers with no elegance. Blinking the water out of his eyes, Dean rubs a towel over his face and grabs a zip hoodie from the hook on the back of the bathroom door; not bothering to zip it up, he walks back out to see Castiel, flopping down on the couch next to him.

“Hi,” he says, resting his head against Castiel’s shoulder. “Are those the plans for the opening?”

“Yes,” Castiel says, pulling up the invite that went out earlier in the week. “Gabriel’s been working on it between other events, and it seems to be coming together.”

“Good. What were you thinking about?”

“I’ve enjoyed doing this,” Castiel says, closing his laptop, putting it on the floor and cuddling a little closer to Dean. “I want to do more. It’s likely this building is going to be oversubscribed, and I don’t like to think there’ll be omegas that need housing who we’ll have to leave out.”

“This took us almost a year, Cas,” Dean says. “If you want to build more of these, we’d have to go about it differently, look into buildings that are already residential instead of converting.”

“We? You’d do this again with me?”

Dean lifts his head from Castiel’s shoulder and kisses his cheek. “I’d do anything with you,” he says. “You know that.”

“But your work—”

“Is exhausting,” Dean says. “I have a lot of savings, I own this place outright, there’s no mortgage so we don’t have to worry about that, and—”

“Wait, are you really talking about quitting your job?” Castiel asks.

Rubbing a hand over his face, Dean shrugs. “This project, what you’ve been doing, it’s meant something to me. More than because it’s you, because I’m doing something real, not just adding to the skyline and dealing with assholes all day. I’m _tired_ , Cas, and if we ever—” Dean breaks off. “I don’t want to be a dad who ends up missing everything because I’m stuck at the office.”

Castiel rests a hand against Dean’s chest, the simple touch against his skin making Dean sink into the couch a little more. “I get it,” Castiel says. “And I want you to be happy, whatever you do.”

“But?”

“But you should wait until after this is finished,” Castiel says. “I’d work with you in a heartbeat, but you have to be sure that this is what you want.”

“I’m not going to change my mind,” Dean says, covering Castiel’s hand with his own. “But if it makes you happy, I’ll wait.”

“It would make me very happy.”

“Bet I can think of a few other things that would make you happy,” Dean says, aiming a smirk at Castiel.

Castiel’s eyes widen, returning Dean’s grin as he leans up into a kiss. “Try me,” he says quietly as their mouths brush against each other, and Dean’s only too happy to oblige.

*

Dean isn’t sure what he was expecting from the opening night party that Gabriel pulled together, but he knows it wasn’t half of what it’s ended up being. There’s people everywhere, and Castiel keeps being dragged into conversations with strangers that leave Dean feeling antsy and possessive, which he can’t quite decide if he’s okay with or not. They haven’t—they’re not bonded, not yet. They’re mostly living together, they both know this is it, that there’s not ever going to be anyone else, but the idea of ‘mate’ has been hanging over them for so long that Dean isn’t sure how to approach it.

Tightening his grip on Castiel’s hand as another alpha gets a little too close to him, Dean’s painfully aware of how close he’s coming to acting like an asshole and embarrassing Castiel.

“Can we step outside?” he asks Castiel in a low voice.

Castiel nods, they make their excuses, and head out the back door into an alley. “Is everything okay?” Castiel asks.

“There’s a lot of people,” Dean says. “A lot of strange alphas lurking around. Sorry, I know it’s your night, and—”

“This? This is all Gabriel,” Castiel says, shaking his head. “When everyone’s moved in, when it’s all working right, that’s when I’ll know I’ve done my job. This is just promotion, and I’ve never particularly had a taste for it. Gabriel’s a lot better at talking people out of their money than I am.”

“That I can believe,” Dean says with a smile, stepping a little closer and curling his free hand around Castiel’s neck. “Think we can go home?” he asks, lips brushing over Castiel’s mouth. “Work in a little celebration of our own?”

“Does that line usually work for you?” Castiel asks, raising an eyebrow at Dean.

“You tell me, it’s the first time I’ve used it.”

“Oh, it’s working,” Castiel says, pressing their hips together, hand resting at the small of Dean’s back. “Can you tell?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dean breathes out, his pulse racing at the contact. “Can we—we can go home, right? Cas, please—”

“Let’s go,” Castiel says, contradicting his words by catching Dean’s mouth in a kiss that makes Dean want to stay here, in this moment forever.

Eventually, they part, and quickly make their way to the valet, Cas pressing kisses up Dean’s neck as they wait for the Impala to be brought around. The drive home takes both too long and no time at all, and when they’re finally at the apartment, Dean fumbles with the keys before getting the door opening and both of them almost falling through it.

The lights are off, and Dean tugs Castiel by the tie he’s wearing, walking backwards through the apartment until they get to the bedroom. “This should come off,” he says, unravelling Castiel’s tie and dropping it on the floor.

“So should your shirt,” Castiel says, fingers working their way down Dean’s shirt, unbuttoning it as he goes.

“You too,” Dean says, tugging the bottom of Castiel’s shirt out of his pants. Ducking his head to Castiel’s neck, Dean inhales Castiel’s scent as he slips a hand underneath Castiel’s shirt, fingers playing against Castiel’s skin. “I want you.”

Castiel shivers at the words and curls his arms around Dean, holding him close. “You’ve got me.”

They stay like that for a while, until Dean can’t take it anymore and he steps back, kissing Castiel quickly before he sheds the rest of his clothes, watching as Castiel does the same. Castiel climbs on the bed, pushing the blankets back, and then he’s there, spread out on Dean’s bed, and he’s never wanted anyone as much as he wants Castiel in this moment.

Climbing on the bed, Dean covers Castiel with his body, groaning as their dicks brush together; capturing Castiel’s mouth in a kiss, Dean pushes everything he’s feeling into the kiss, trying to let Castiel know just how much he loves him, how much he cares, how he’s never going to let anything come between them.

Pulling away to take a breath, Dean bites his bottom lip when Castiel’s legs spread underneath him. “Cas—”

“I want you,” Castiel says, hands roaming all along Dean’s bare skin, spiking every nerve ending Dean has with his touch. “Get up.”

Dean obeys, rolling off Castiel and watches him turn onto his front, eyes travelling over the expanse of Castiel’s skin that’s on view. Skimming a hand over Castiel’s ass, Dean looks to the head of the bed to find Castiel looking at him over his shoulder. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Castiel says. “I want you, I want this.”

Crawling up the bed, Dean kisses Castiel softly, before placing another kiss on his shoulder, then working his way down Castiel’s spine, kissing and licking at the skin until Castiel’s squirming underneath his touch. Reaching Castiel’s ass, Dean pauses, breath hitting Castiel’s skin in a tease until there’s a whine coming from Castiel and he’s lifting his ass, pushing back towards Dean. “I got you,” Dean says with a grin as he presses a sloppy kiss against Castiel’s left ass cheek.

Parting Castiel’s cheeks, Dean darts his tongue out, swiping it across his lips in anticipation. “You’re—I didn’t expect.”

“It’s the bonding,” Castiel says impatiently. “Didn’t you pay attention in sex ed? Omegas, when we bond, even outside of heat, it’s— _oh_ —” Castiel cuts off as Dean’s tongue runs over his hole.

Dean smirks. “Think I’m learning pretty quickly.”

“Do that again.”

Dean obeys, licking Castiel over and over again until he’s an utter mess beneath him, Dean having to grip Castiel’s hips to keep him still. He’s holding him so tight that Dean wonders if he’s going to end up leaving bruises on Castiel, if Castiel is going to carry those marks that no one else will ever see, but Dean will know are there. Another day, he’s going to see if he can make Castiel come just from this, his tongue working Castiel just right, hands holding Castiel down until he’s desperate and begging, but tonight isn’t about that. Castiel’s obviously on the same page, because as soon as Dean traces a finger lightly over Castiel’s hole, he’s pushing back against it.

“Please,” Castiel asks, voice rough. “Dean, please.”

Dean slides a finger inside Castiel, the amount of slick making it easy, and he sucks a breath in when Castiel begs for another. “Cas—”

“Do it.”

There’s only so much self control Dean has when Castiel is so needy, when his scent is filling the room, soaking into the atmosphere, and now all he can do is go with what Castiel wants because he wants to give Castiel anything he desires; wants to be a good alpha for his omega in every way possible. Finger fucking him slowly, Dean tries to drag this out as long as he possibly can, but all of the noises Castiel’s making are going straight to his dick, and Dean can’t carry on teasing Castiel unless he wants to come before he even gets inside him.

“Cas, sweetheart, I gotta—” Dean cuts himself off, wrapping a hand around the base of his dick. “Like this, or? I want you to be comfortable.”

“Like this,” Castiel says, staying on his stomach. “I want to feel you on top of me.”

Dean swallows, staring at the expanse of skin in front of him, and he touches Castiel’s hips. “Up,” he says. “Knees.”

Castiel’s pliant, moving wherever Dean directs him, and it’s got the alpha part of his brain standing to attention. Pressing a kiss to the base of Castiel’s spine, Dean lines himself up, pushing inside Castiel slowly, wanting to savour every moment. When he bottoms out, Dean drapes himself over Castiel’s back, hands running down Castiel’s sides, mouth dragging along the back of Castiel’s neck.

“Dean, you feel— _oh_ ”,” Castiel gasps as Dean moves his hips. “Keep, I need—”

“Yeah,” Dean says, straightening up slightly. “Okay.” Gripping Castiel’s hips, Dean starts to fuck him, slowly at first, making Castiel whine, his fingers tangling in the sheets, pulling them up from the mattress. Dean’s entire world narrows to this; the feel of being inside Castiel, the way he’s pushing back against Dean, like he’s desperate to keep Dean inside him. There’s nothing Dean’s felt that’s ever come close to what he’s feeling with Castiel, and it’s almost too much. The heat in the room is overwhelming, Dean’s hands are sliding against Castiel’s hips as he tries to get deeper, as Castiel groans underneath him.

Feeling his dick start to swell, Dean leans over Castiel, mouth sucking a mark against Castiel’s skin. “I’m gonna, I can pull out if you don’t—”

“Knot me,” Castiel bites out. “I want it, I want to be _yours_.”

Every instinct in Dean’s brain is screaming at those words, and with one last push inside Castiel, he feels his knot take, and then he’s coming, hips jerking as he finally gets his release inside his omega. He’s barely coming down from his orgasm when he realises that Castiel hasn’t come, that he’s wriggling underneath Dean in desperation.

Reaching for Castiel’s dick, Dean wraps his hand around it, pre-come and slick easing the way; stroking as fast as he can, feeling Castiel’s desperation to get off, Dean keeps going until Castiel cries out, spilling all over Dean’s hand and the bed. Dean manages to get his hand out of the way before Castiel’s knees go out, and he’s flat against the bed, Dean on top of him, knot still inside Castiel.

“Holy fuck,” Castiel breathes out, his head turned to the side on the pillow.

Dean licks a stripe across Castiel’s skin, the taste of Castiel overwhelming every one of his senses, and smiles. “You okay?” he asks, dick twitching inside Castiel as he comes again, eyes closing at the sudden jolt of pleasure down his spine.

“Uh huh. Did you—am I marked?” Castiel asks, a note of apprehension in his voice.

“No,” Dean says, laying soft kisses along Castiel’s skin. “I wouldn’t do that without asking.”

“Thank you.”

“Cas, if you never want a mark, that’s okay. We’re bonded,” Dean says, shifting his hips, enjoying the tug of Castiel’s rim against his knot. “That’s enough for me.”

“I love you,” Castiel says, before his body goes tense, like he didn’t realise the words would come out. “I mean—I didn’t—”

“Shhh,” Dean says, seeking out Castiel’s hand and gripping it. “I love you too.” There’s a contented sigh, and Dean can feel Castiel’s body relax into the mattress. “Cas, I told you, this isn’t a game to me. I love you. It’s as simple as that.”

Dean doesn’t know how long it’s going to be until his knot goes down; he can already feel Castiel dozing off underneath him, his body going lax, breathing evening out, and Dean can feel his own eyes closing, adrenaline crashing as he gives in to sleep himself.

*

Dean wakes up a few hours later, light streaming in from the street where they forgot to bring the blackout blinds down. Shifting, Dean realises he’s still inside Castiel, knot having come down, and a mess of come and slick between them. Sliding out, he hears Castiel hiss and he soothes the noise with a kiss behind Castiel’s ear, messy hair rubbing against his nose.

“Sorry,” he whispers, rolling off Castiel. “Didn’t mean to—”

“S’okay,” Castiel says, turning onto his side and looking at Dean. “I know.”

There’s a humming under Dean’s skin, and he reaches out, tracing a finger down Castiel’s face, pausing on the plushness of his bottom lip. “We’re a mess,” he says with a smile, looking down at himself. “Shower?”

“In a moment,” Castiel says, staring at Dean. “I’m just—enjoying being with you.”

“Come here,” Dean says, lifting his arm up so Castiel can shuffle closer, resting his head on Dean’s shoulder, fingers tweaking Dean’s nipple. “Hey,” Dean exclaims, voice rough with sleep. “Nipple play can wait.”

Castiel grins, crinkles forming at the side of his eyes. “That wasn’t what I was going for, but good to know.”

“You’re going to move in, right?” Dean says. “I know you’re basically here all the time anyway, but I—I want this to be your home. Make changes, bring all your stuff here, and just—I don’t want to not be around you, Cas.”

“Can we get rid of that art by the bookcase?”

“The thing with the trees?”

“Yes. It’s creepy.”

“I don’t even remember where that came from,” Dean says. “If you want it to go, it can go.”

“Then I’ll move in.”

“Good.”

They lay there in the quiet for a while, the only noise being whatever comes in from the street. The light plays over Castiel’s skin, and Dean knows, that whatever happens next—whatever choices he makes about his career—he’s already got everything he needs right here with him.


End file.
